


Biscotti From My Baby

by cernicalo



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cernicalo/pseuds/cernicalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a Christmas Story and contains some mild angst.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Biscotti From My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Christmas Story and contains some mild angst.

“And bring me one of those biscuit things…” Gibbs ordered making Tony smile.

“Yes, Boss,” he replied as he made his way to the coffee kiosk. Those ‘biscuit things’ were the hazelnut biscotti that Gibbs had latched onto recently. It was funny. Tony had never figured Gibbs for having a sweet tooth but he’d taken a bite of one that he’d snagged from Tony’s desk and he’d been hooked.

He made his way down wearing his best ‘I’m happy and all is right in my world’ mask, smiling and wishing a ‘Merry Christmas’ to those few souls that were still at work on this Christmas Eve day. Most of his team were gone leaving just him and Gibbs to hold down the fort, which wasn’t unusual. Neither he nor Gibbs ever had special plans for the extra time off. But the rest of his little NCIS family did. Tim had driven to see his family and had left the day before. Abby was with him. She was going to spend Christmas with them which was a compromise they’d reached after spending Thanksgiving with her family. He was happy for them. Really. Little Probie and Little Sister finally getting serious. Of course she hadn’t been too pleased the last time he’d called her Mrs. McGoo and recalled the size of the bruise he’d found on his arm that night with a grin.

Ziva had flown out a few days ago as well to visit her mother. Ducky had taken the most leave having left the week before to take his mother home to England for one last Christmas. Tony actually thought that was pretty sad but Ducky had been in excellent spirits and had regaled Tony with stories of his eccentric family and had detailed many old-standing Mallard Christmas traditions. He wondered what it would be like to have some type of family tradition, something that had meaning for everyone in the family. It wasn’t something he’d ever known and probably never would.

He smoothed down the back of his head as he kicked himself. He’d started a little sooner this year than he normally would. Usually he didn’t start having dark thoughts until just around Christmas Eve. This year, however, he’d been thinking about it for the last couple of weeks. Longer maybe.

It. Thinking about It. It was the fact that he was now past 40, single and without any type of family attachment which he somehow hadn’t expected. All of his college friends had married, had had children, hell…they still went to visit relatives over the holidays. He knew all of this because he got their Christmas cards every year with the standard family photo which marked the passage of time through the growth of their kids. He thought fleetingly of Jeanne. He’d let himself believe for a little while that they would have that, too, but reality had slapped him across the head when Jeanne learned who he really was and then everything had fallen apart. But who had he been kidding anyway? His relationship with her had been built on lies and not just about his name or his job. It was about him and who he really wanted, but Gibbs had never shown an interest in him in that way. His traditions seemed only to involve redheads.

He smiled again as he thought about traditions. He did have one of his own for the most part. When he got off of work, the rest of that day and the next would be spent in his apartment watching movies and reading…and cooking. He laughed as he added creamer and sugar to his coffee. Ziva would never believe that he could cook and he contemplated secretly bringing in some treats when she returned after Christmas just to watch her try and figure out where they’d come from. He picked up a couple of biscotti and took them to the register to pay. These weren’t too bad but he had a recipe for some that were out of this world. Okay, add those to the list of things he’d cook over the holiday break. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t have time. Especially since he, like everyone else, expected to be cut loose about mid-day.

He ran over the list of special treats he planned on making but they weren’t necessarily associated with the Christmas holiday, they were the treats that reminded him of his Nona which were the only good memories he had growing up. So every few weeks he pulled out his Nona’s handwritten note pages and whipped up a few choice dishes that he’d then partition out into several meals and freeze. Ziva thought all he ate was junk food and pizza but she was very wrong. Tony ate extremely well. So well, in fact, that running three miles every day was absolutely necessary if he was to keep in shape.

He walked back to the bullpen and left the coffee and biscotti on Gibbs’ desk and wondered where he was. Shrugging, he walked back to his own to continue reading a book on profiling he’d just received. It wasn’t something he’d ever read in front of the rest of his team, too much fodder for teasing, but he didn’t mind reading it in front of Gibbs although he’d never stopped to wonder why he was different.

“Shut it down, DiNozzo, we’re done until Monday,” Gibbs said as he walked back to his desk.

“Alrighty,” Tony said with glee and rubbed his hands together as though in anticipation of something wonderful.

“Big plans?” Gibbs asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight pang as he wondered if she was blonde or brunette. Tony never seemed to date redheads.

“Always, Boss…a little Christmas cheer, some good food and the holiday spirits. What about you?” he asked already knowing the answer.

“The usual,” Gibbs replied which meant basement, boat and probably bourbon. They weren’t on call this weekend.  
And for a split moment Tony had the desire to ask Gibbs over for dinner, to watch a movie or to share a beer but he pushed the thought away. He’d asked before but had always been turned down and today…well he just didn’t think he could handle another rejection in his current mood. He gathered his things but noted Gibbs still reading through a report.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Boss,” he said a little wistfully.

“Yeah, same to you DiNozzo,” Gibbs responded but barely looked up from his paper.

Tony nodded and headed out unaware of the blue eyes that followed him.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Gibbs whispered to himself as he watched the elevator doors close before burying himself again.

Tony stopped by the market for some hazelnuts before heading home. He was definitely going to make his Nona’s biscotti and just the thought made him smile again. Chocolaty and filled with nuts with an added hint of espresso, they were fantastic and, for a bit of extra sweetness Tony also liked to dip them in melted chocolate.  
Several hours later he had braciole all sliced up and partitioned out and a large pot of sauce simmering on the stove. There were multiple small aluminum trays of his Nona’s famous eggplant parmesan that would go straight into the freezer for easy dinners later on. He’d just finished dipping the biscotti in the chocolate and was waiting for them to harden before he packed them up when he again thought about Gibbs. He really liked the biscotti they bought from the kiosk but he was sure he’d really love these. He glanced at the clock. It was only nine pm. Then, refusing to second-guess his decision, he put away the meat and then packed up a good amount of biscotti and turned off the stove. He wouldn’t be long, he thought as he locked his door and headed out into the night.

Gibbs took another sip of his bourbon as he contemplated his work. It wasn’t often that the familiar motions of working on his boat failed to still the unrest in his mind but tonight was definitely one of those times. He didn’t care about holidays…tried to ignore them mostly. There were just too many memories recalling happy times that made him ache for what he’d lost to a drug dealer’s bullet.

He sighed deeply. I’m getting old, he thought, old and mired in memories of better times. He ran a hand over his face. He didn’t usually wallow in self-pity and what if’s. Why was he doing this to himself tonight? You know why, whispered the thought at the back of his mind. He’d had the fleeting thought that Tony was going to ask him over for a beer, maybe dinner, but it hadn’t happened. Not that he wouldn’t have given the same answer he did every other time, but tonight it just seemed like he regretted it more than ever. God, just another regret among far too many. Was that all he had in his life now?

“Fuck!” he yelled as he threw his cup against the wall. Why hadn’t Tony asked him tonight? Why did he shut him out when they said their goodnights? “You’re an old fool,” he said to the boat.

“Boss?”

Gibbs looked up to see Tony with his weapon in hand as he scanned the basement.

“You alright?” he asked when he noted the broken cup and wet stain on the brick wall.

“What are you doing here, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked gruffly, shocked to see the one person he’d been thinking of all evening.

“Brought you something…” Tony explained uncertainly, regretting his impulsive action immediately. Gibbs probably preferred his solitude on nights like this and he’d just ruined that.

Gibbs just looked at him while he holstered his weapon. He was uncharacteristically moved to see Tony in his basement tonight and he felt a lump in his throat. The two men stared at one another for a moment.

“So what have you got?” Gibbs asked needing to break the tense silence.

Tony suddenly felt very embarrassed for following the impulse that brought him here tonight. It seemed so…girly. What was Gibbs going to think of him?

“Uh, come on up…” he said deciding that he may as well give his gift and take whatever derision Gibbs decided to hand out.

When they got upstairs Gibbs looked around until he saw the covered plate on the counter. With a lifted eyebrow he turned towards Tony.

“Go ahead…thought you might like these…”

Gibbs opened the covering and saw the biscuit things that he liked but they weren’t wrapped…they looked like they could be homemade.

“Did you make these?” he asked and noted with surprise as the color came up into Tony’s face.

“My grandmother’s recipe…thought you’d like them…” Tony repeated and then trailed off more embarrassed than ever.

Gibbs smiled gently. “Let’s find out,” he said as he started a pot of coffee.

Tony watched carefully as Gibbs took his first bite and smiled in delight at the pleasure on Gibbs face. A couple of hours later more than half of the plate was gone and both men were on their second pot of coffee.

“So my Nona would cook up these fantastic meals a couple of times a week while I was home from school. I was always going over there and eventually she taught me.” Tony smiled at a memory of his grandmother. “When she was young she went to a Broadway show and fell in love with the glamour and magic of the theater. Every time I visited she’d put on these LPs of a bunch of different musicals and we’d sing to them together while we cooked…”

Tony’s eyes glowed at his memories and a soft smile graced his lips. Gibbs found he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Tony’s mouth. He wondered if Tony’s lips were as soft and silky as they looked.

“Gibbs?” Tony asked tentatively, raising a hand to wipe away the crumbs he was sure were there. Slowly Gibbs looked up and Tony felt his chest clench at the intensity he saw there. “Gibbs?” he asked again more softly.

Something in Tony’s voice broke through Gibbs’ scrutiny and he looked into Tony’s eyes. Damn, he wanted him, wanted him stretched out underneath him, wanted the feel of his skin under his fingers, in his mouth… But this was Tony, his Second, and he meant too much to him to push for what he couldn’t give. He forced himself to back away from those thoughts.

“Is she still alive?” Gibbs asked gruffly, both desire and regret coloring his voice.

Tony looked at him in confusion. He was sure he’d read desire in those eyes, desire he hoped matched his own. But then Gibbs backed away. It took a moment for him to realize that Gibbs had asked a question.

“Ah, no. She passed away while I was in college,” Tony’s eyes slid away as he said that, painful memories overriding the lust of the moment before. How could he tell Gibbs about the day his father had found them together, Tony entertaining his grandmother by singing and dancing while he cooked? His father had stormed in furious that his son was learning how to cook like a woman, was singing and dancing like a pervert from the theater. He’d raged at his mother for encouraging behavior he found abhorrent. Tony had never been allowed to visit her again. He’d never even known that she had passed away until her lawyer had shown up with the cookbooks and notes she’d left to him in her will. They were now his most prized possessions.

“Hey,” Gibbs said as he reached out to touch Tony’s hand. That flash of pain in Tony’s eyes tore at him and knew there was more to this story. “She must have been something really special,” he offered.

Tony smiled a bit. “Yeah, she was,” he agreed. He looked down and noted that Gibbs’ hand was still on his own. Gibbs made to pull away but he stopped him and then brought his other hand up so that he cradled Gibbs’ hand in both of his and stared at the man he wanted so badly…but what if he was wrong? Feeling suddenly shy and way too vulnerable, he let go of Gibbs and grabbed his cup. He moved to the sink to rinse it out.

“Tony,” Gibbs whispered standing behind him. Tony wasn’t even aware of the moment he’d moved.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong…” he said quietly as he placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder trusting in that momentary flash of returned desire and vulnerability he’d seen in Tony’s eyes before he’d moved to the sink. It was that flash that had cemented his decision.

Tony closed his eyes and leaned on over the sink. “What does your gut tell you?”

“That I’m not…” he said leaning in until he had full body contact, his chest to Tony’s back, Tony’s gorgeous butt pressed up against his groin and Tony’s thigh against his own.  
Tony pushed back against him enough to turn around. He looked into Gibbs’ eyes knowing this time what it was he saw. “Trust your gut,” he said quietly as he listened to his own.

In a flash Gibbs had both of his hands on Tony’s head and was pulling him in for a kiss. But it wasn’t just a kiss. There was no tentative exploration here; it was pent up desire making itself known at last. Gibbs ran his tongue across Tony’s mouth which opened immediately. He pushed his tongue in desperately tasting, sucking and exploring as though it was something he’d wanted for a long time.

Tony moaned under the assault, his own desire rushing forth to meet Gibbs’. He wrapped his arms around Gibbs’ trim waist and held on under the devastating claim Gibbs’ was making. It was everything he’d ever fantasized about in one glorious moment and he gave himself over to it, to Gibbs. They pulled back after a bit, both needing to breathe.

“I never knew,” Tony said in between pants, “that you felt this way…”

“You kept it pretty well hidden, too…” Gibbs growled, annoyed at them both for wasting so much time.

“We’re both fools,” Tony said remembering Gibbs’ words in the basement.

“Yeah,” Gibbs said but then his face became serious. “And we’re both too old to get involved in something well regret tomorrow, so are you sure?”

“You’re it for me, Gibbs, have been for a long time. So yeah, I’m sure…”

“Good, me too,” he said taking a couple of steps and then turning and holding out his hand. “Come on, I’m definitely too old to consider the kitchen floor for what I have in mind.”

Tony laughed and took those same steps to join his soon-to-be lover. He was astounded and decided at that moment to make biscotti a new Gibbs-DiNozzo tradition. He was immediately pulled in for another kiss as he reached Gibbs’ side.

“What do you like?” Gibbs said after a moment.

“I like to bottom…”

“Good…I top.” Gibbs said with a nod as he led Tony towards the stairs.

“Well, yeah,” Tony said with a laugh. “You’re Gibbs…”

Just then the clock in the living room struck midnight and both men paused at the bottom of the steps and turned to one another surprised at the passage of time. Gibbs pulled Tony in for a strong hug.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” he whispered into the soft hair.

“Merry Christmas to you, Jethro,” Tony answered and, as one, they turned and walked upstairs.

And Happy Holidays to you all!


End file.
